


Assassin Gladio x Reader: His Escape

by louisvuittontrashbags



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Assassin's Festival DLC, Cunnilingus, F/M, Fucking, Vaginal Fingering, assassin gladio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 15:03:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15197339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louisvuittontrashbags/pseuds/louisvuittontrashbags
Summary: Reader and Assassin Gladio share a tent the night before a mission from which there may be no return--boning ensues.





	Assassin Gladio x Reader: His Escape

As you travel across the desert on your chocobo there’s only one name turning over in your mind—Gladiolus Al-Amicitia. You’ve endured three days of travel in the harshest conditions, all in the name of your king. Well, that wouldn’t be quite accurate—Noctis Al-Qaylum is your king, but he’s far more than that; he leads an intricate network of spies and assassins in the fight against the templars, a conflict that spans millennia and implicates a good number of the king’s court. You’d never had the pleasure to meet the king in person, nor his inner circle, but they were known throughout the land for their impressive feats. Truth be told they were also famed for being extraordinarily handsome, but most of those claims had to be at least somewhat exaggerated. Gladiolus, however… tales of his womanizing spread far and wide; there must be a woman in every village who claims him as the father of her child, citing the baby’s beautiful amber eyes as proof.

You roll your eyes, shaking your head and putting the thought out of your mind. _You may have gotten by on your looks thus far, Gladiolus, but I’m here for the mission—that’s it. You won’t be bedding me._

The sun is finally beginning to set when you arrive at his camp—although he’s not exactly undercover you find yourself surprised at the grandeur of it all. Perhaps this is the benefit to being a part of the king’s court. There are multiple tents clustered together with one large tent in the center of it all. Raucous music filters through even from a distance, and you can already imagine what sort of reception is awaiting you. You tie your chocobo to a nearby post, patting her neck affectionately and shouldering your pack. “Wish me luck, girl,” you murmur to her.

“Wark!”

You duck beneath the tent flaps, and the chaos that greets you grinds your nerves. There are dancers, all manner of serving girls, men and women lounging in this massive tent. _What kind of mission is this man on? All I see here is a party._

You don’t have to look for long to find Gladiolus—you spot him easily in the middle of it all, his large frame reclined on a cushion with an argileh hose clutched in his hand. There’s a haze of smoke around him, but even from this distance you can see the dark kohl that lines those famous amber eyes. You lock eyes across the room, and he gives you a casual smile, nodding and speaking to a beautiful woman attending him. She approaches you with an air of respect, sinking into a formal bow.

“Gladiolus Al-Amicitia welcomes you, Mistress Y/N. Your travels must have left you weary—please, allow me to take your things.”

She reaches for your pack, and you hand it to her warily. She accepts it with a smile, as though you’ve given her some incredible gift. “Please, follow me.”

You can feel the eyes of the revelers in the tent on you as you follow the pretty serving girl; they smile when they see you looking, but you can’t help but feel as if they all know something you don’t. _They must think I’m going to fall right into his lap like every other woman he meets._

Gladiolus rises from his seat, coming forward to greet you with a kiss on each cheek—unlike most people, however, he lets his lips connect with your face. The scratch of his beard against your skin and the press of his warm lips to your cheek makes your heart pound and your skin tingle, and you curse him internally for his unwelcome familiarity.

“We’ve been waiting for you.” Gladiolus smiles, an expression that makes you feel a strange nervousness in your chest. “You must be exhausted after three days of travel in this goddamn heat. Would you like water or wine with your dinner?”

“Wine will do.” You follow him to the cushions in the center of the room, taking a seat next to him. “When the king told me my services were needed for a stealth mission I wasn’t expecting to come and find all this noise.”

Gladiolus taps his temple, giving you a sly wink. “Hiding in plain sight. I’m known throughout these kingdoms as Eos’s most famous playboy. An erection with legs. A week-long party is exactly what our enemies expect from me. Perfect cover for you.”

You have to admit it makes sense. Some part of you feels a stab of guilt that perhaps you’ve misjudged him, but the way his eyes linger on you, as if they’re exploring every dip and curve of your robes… _perhaps there’s a good deal of truth to those rumors after all._

Your thoughts are interrupted by a plate of food set down before you—after days of subsisting on rations and water from your canteen hot food seems like an actual miracle. You fall to it with a will, though Gladiolus’s eyes on you make you feel suddenly self-conscious.

“Are we safe to talk here?” You gesture to the partygoers with a piece of bread, and Gladiolus nods, leaning back against his cushion and taking a drag of his argileh. 

“Everyone here is a member of our order.” He blows the smoke up and away from you. “Even the dancers.”

You let yourself relax just a bit further. “I’m not exactly clear on what it is you’ll be doing while I’m going behind enemy lines. I believe in the King’s vision and I will follow his orders faithfully, but forgive me if I’m a bit uncertain about your role in things.”

“I’ll be here, getting drunk off my ass and ogling dancers.”

When you gape at him he laughs, a deep bass rumble in his chest. “Sorry, sorry. That’s just the cover. I’ll be monitoring the situation and preparing backup. We’ll have men ready to pull you out, or back you up, however it goes.”

“And if I’m captured?”

Gladiolus takes another deep drag of his argileh, his smile transitioning to something a bit more somber. “You have your poison capsule. If not, my archers are standing by.”

You nod solemnly. “I’m ready to die for our cause.”

“Ain’t we all.” Gladiolus studies you silently, the mischievous twinkle gone from his eye. After a few quiet moments, he speaks again.

“Pack looked awfully small when you came in. You leave your tent with your Chocobo?”

You shake your head. “I didn’t bring one. I’ll sleep wherever you have space for me.”

It’s Gladiolus’s turn to shake his head. “No guest of mine is sleeping ‘wherever we have space.’ You’ll stay in my tent.”

You push your now-empty plate away. “I’m not trying to be a part of your walking-erection alibi.”

Gladiolus narrows his eyes, taking an irritable puff of his argileh. “Who said anything like that? I’m saying you can have my tent.”

“Well where will you sleep?”

“Out among the stars, like the gods intended.” He sweeps an arm expansively. “Manmade shelter cuts a man off from the source of his strength. Makes him weak.”

The image of Gladiolus sleeping outside while you take his tent doesn’t sit well with you. “That’s not necessary.” You take a drink of your wine, trying to figure out a way to say it without sounding as if you’re going back on your word. “There’s no reason we can’t both share your tent. You just stay on one side and I’ll stay on the other. We’re both adults, after all.”

Gladiolus leans over, reclining on his side against the cushions as he gives you an incredulous look. “What, now you trust me?” You can’t help but note the way his chest fills out his robes—while his outfit is more modest than the typical assassin’s robes you can still imagine just how incredible he must look beneath it. It takes you a moment to return your gaze to his face—a fact that is surely not lost on him.

“I never said I didn’t trust you.” You can feel your cheeks burning. “Just wanted to make things clear about my intentions. I’m a professional.”

“So am I.” There’s an air of defiance in his posture now. “Glad we’re both on the same page, then.”

The night passes pleasantly enough; Gladiolus’s merrymakers are pleasant company, and the food and wine is among the best you’ve had in recent memory. The party is still going strong as the night wears on, but you’ve had enough reveling for one night. When Gladiolus sees you beginning to yawn, he waves a serving girl over to you.

“Wardeh, show her to my tent, won’t you?”

The girl nods, approaching you with a modest bow. “Follow me, _sayyidati_.”

You rise from your place next to Gladiolus and follow her outside, walking through a mass of tents. You can tell which is his immediately—it’s far grander than the rest. When you duck beneath the flaps you’re pleased to see your belongings have already been brought inside.

Gladiolus’s tent is impressively sized, but it’s far less lavish on the inside than you’d expected. Multicolored rugs with ornate designs line the bottom, and cushions abound. There’s a rather inviting-looking mass of pillows near the center of the tent, along with an arghileh. _Naturally._ You strip off your robes, changing into a silk slip. You can only imagine the way Gladiolus will glower at you after you’d insisted you weren’t here to be another notch in his belt, but you shrug it off. _I didn’t ride all this way to sleep in a bunch of sandy robes. He can glare til his eyes fall out of his head._

Gladiolus comes wandering into the tent an hour later, his eyebrows raising when he sees you bent over, fiddling with a kerosene lamp. “You usually sleep like that?”

“Like what?” You don’t bother to look at him, but he crosses the tent in a few easy strides and kneels beside you, lighting the lamp easily with a small fireball.

“I was trying to avoid using magic, you know,” you grumble. “Templars can trace it easily.”

“Let them. We’re not hiding.” He grabs the argileh and returns to the far side of the tent, lighting the coals with another small burst of flame.

“Are you going to smoke in here too?” You know you shouldn’t complain as a guest, but gods, did this man ever put the pipe down?

Gladiolus looks at you for a moment. “Planned to.” He doesn’t say anything else, simply turns away from you and begins to pull his robes off. You want to ask him what he’s doing, but the sight of his bare back silences you. A mass of tanned flesh littered with scars from battles past is adorned with an impressive tattoo. Judging by the feathers you can tell it must be a bird of some sort, but you’re dying to see the rest of it. As though he can feel your eyes on him, he turns to look at you. You try to save face in the only way you know how.

“You usually sleep like that?” You’re not entirely certain if your joke came across the way you intended, but you feel relieved when he grins at you.

“I usually sleep nude.”

You stare at him, your eyes wandering down to his waist to see if he’s planning to undress any further, but he throws his head back in a laugh, a genuine sound that bubbles up from his belly. “I’ll spare you tonight. After all, we’re both professionals.”

You’re surprised by how disappointed you find yourself at the prospect of his pants remaining where they are, but you shake it off. You settle yourself in for the night, feeling a strange anxiety in your chest. 

Perhaps it’s your unfamiliar surroundings, or the gravity of tomorrow’s mission, but you find yourself tossing and turning—when you do manage to sleep, it’s disrupted by strange nightmares. It comes to a head when you jolt awake in the wee hours, your heart racing. You sit up, desperate to shake the gruesome images from your mind, but you’re surprised to see Gladiolus sitting up, awake, argileh in hand.

“Pre-mission jitters?” He looks somehow more handsome than he had before you’d gone to sleep, a contrast to the horrors of your mind. You’re loath to admit it, but there’s no use hiding it from him.

“It’s never been quite this intense.” You rub your temples. “Being so far from home… none of my usual coping mechanisms are available.”

“Wanna try mine?” He waves the argileh pipe at you, but you shake your head.

“No, thank you.” You stand, stretching your stiff muscles. You can feel Gladiolus’s eyes on you, but you have larger concerns. “Are you going to be up for a while?”

He nods, taking another pull of his pipe. “I’ll be up all night. Cover demands it.” He allows himself a genuine smile. “Hard to sleep properly with a beautiful woman in your tent anyway.”

You cross the room to sit next to him, making yourself comfortable on a pile of cushions nearby. You consider for a moment, then lie down, ignoring the way his eyes drift to your chest as your breasts resettle themselves in your slip.

“So is this how the great assassin Gladiolus deals with nerves? Up all night smoking?” You look up at him from your new place on the floor—he could so easily lean over and kiss you.

“I have other ways to deal.” He gives you a look that warms you to your core, despite the cool night air. “But I’m sure you’re not interested in hearing about that.”

“Tell me.” You prop your head up on your hand, watching him in the dim lamplight. He looks at you with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Usually involves a pretty girl.” He runs a hand over his lustrous black beard, the muscle of his broad chest rippling with the movement. “And some real ‘unprofessional’ behavior.”

You know this is about the time that you should be getting up to return to your space across the room, far away from this dangerously handsome man, but something has you only wanting to draw closer to him. Perhaps it’s the lack of sleep affecting your common sense, but you’re sitting up before you know it, leaning in closer. “Tell me.”

Gladiolus sets the argileh aside, his eyes molten gold. “There’s nothing like losing yourself in the wet heat of a woman the night before a mission. All that restless energy, focused and given purpose. Her pleasure is your mission now.”

You feel your pulse beginning to race as he draws closer to you. “It sounds nice,” you murmur, wanting very much to be the woman he loses himself in. For all your insistence that you’d resisthis advances, now that it’s only the two of you it’s easy to understand how so many have fallen for him. “The rumors never mentioned what a giving lover you are.”

Gladiolus reaches out then, pulling the strap of your slip back up over your shoulder. You hadn’t even noticed it’d slipped, but the brush of his calloused fingers against your soft skin sends a tingle through you, raises gooseflesh on your arms. “Rumors are bullshit. Trust only in what’s in front of you. What you see with your own eyes. Remember our creed.”

“Nothing is true.” You don’t remember moving forward, but Gladiolus is close now, far too close.

“Everything is permitted.” He speaks the words of your order, but all you can hear is your pulse roaring in your ears. He’s kissing you before you even have time to process what’s happening, and your body responds in kind. Your hands come out to touch his chest, mapping the contours of his sculpted torso with your palms. He tastes surprisingly sweet, the aroma of the argileh faintly lingering on his tongue. He draws back from you, just enough to speak.

“Do you want this?” When you nod, he takes your hand between his massive palms. “I need to hear you say it.”

“Please, Gladiolus,” you whisper, your lips parted in a needful sigh. “Let me be your escape tonight.”

“No.” He lets his hand drift to your shoulder, pulling the strap of your slip back down. “Tonight, I will be yours.” 

He pushes you down against the cushions, his strong hands squeezing at the soft contours of your body through your slip—breasts, hips, thighs, and anywhere he can reach. His touch is ravenous, every kiss fueling the flame within your core that threatens to turn into a raging inferno. When he begins to pull at your slip you help him, tugging your straps down and slipping it down beneath your breasts. He groans approvingly, his hands sliding down to cover your breasts.

“The finest breasts in Eos, and we have you on the front lines.” His rough palms knead and squeeze your breasts, before he moves down to bury his face in them, The scratch of his beardagainst your skin sends pleasurable tingles through your body, drawing a contented sigh from your lungs.

“Would you shelve one of your most competent operatives just to save her breasts?” You press his face deeper into your chest, fingers carding through his hair. “Are you truly the pig they say you are?”

“No.” His voice is muffled by the soft flesh of your curves. He drags his lips down to the underside of your breast, biting the swell and sucking noisily before pulling himself up to look down at you through half-lidded eyes. “I am Gladiolus Al-Amicitia, son of Clarus Al-Amicitia. The King’s Shield.”

He flexes, making the bird tattooed on his breast shift as his muscles ripple. “I’m a stallion, if anything.”

You can’t help but groan, though his ridiculous display makes your lips curl into a smile. “Get to galloping then, stallion. The sunrise won’t wait for us.”

He strokes his beard, as though considering something weighty. “Excellent point.” He pulls your slip up over your hips, leaning in to tug your panties down with nothing but his teeth. His nose and beard brush the smooth skin of your thighs and legs as he goes, his calloused palms skimming down on either side. Your skin prickles as tendrils of heat radiate out from every point of contact. By the time he’s finally crawled back up to your sex, gazing down at it as though it were some magnificent treasure, you can feel yourself shivering from the anticipation alone.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, his calloused hands traveling up your soft thighs to push them apart. “A woman like you should be savored. Treasured night after night. But since we’ve only got tonight…”

His hot mouth descends onto your sex, his tongue making contact with the soft skin of your mons. He takes his time tasting you, inch by sinful inch; by the time his tongue makes it to your clit your voice is coming out as a whimper. He makes you feel desperate for the pleasure you know he’s taking his sweet time doling out.

“For Gods’ sake.” It’s hard not to beg outright. “Stop teasing me.”

He sucks your clit between his lips, pulling at it as he sits back up to look at you. “I don’t tease. But I can speed things up for you.” He plunges a thick finger into you, his lips tugging into a grin at the gasp he draws out of you. His digit fills you so utterly it’s difficult to imagine his cock in its place—how can there be better than this? He pumps his finger in and out of you steadily, his tongue pressing firmly against your clit in patterns that drive the very thought from your mind.

“Fuck, _fuck_! Gladiolus, I-“

“Gladio will do.” He sucks hard at your clit, creating a rude sound with his lips. “Shorter. Screamable.”

“ _Gladio-_ ”

“Much better.” He curls his finger within you, picking up the pace now. His free hand grasps your thigh, calloused fingertips indenting your soft skin as he begins to rut slowly against the cushions. He groans, a low rumble muffled by the flesh of your sex as he buries his face within your slickness.

“I’m so, close, I-“

Your release takes you suddenly, earlier than you’d anticipated—you’re no match for the great Gladiolus Al-Amicitia’s expert fingers and tongue. Waves of pleasure take you, your sex contracting around the digit still buried deep within you as you cry out into the night. He works you until your hips have stilled and your breath comes in short gasps. When he sits up you can see his face glistening as he crawls back up over you.

“The sweetest nectar,” he murmurs, his voice low and thick with desire, “from the most beautiful flower.” He cups your face in his palm, a tender gesture from a rough man. “Care to taste?”

You curl your arm around his neck, bringing him in close without saying another word. He chuckles, smiling as he brings his lips to yours in a torrid kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips and tongue, smell your own musk mixed with the sweet scent of his beard oil. His cock presses insistently against your thigh, straining even beneath the loose fabric of his pants.

“Tell me.” He cages you in with his massive, muscled body, his eyelids low and hooded as he draws back to look into your eyes. “Do you want more?”

His question takes you by surprise. You’d been so certain of the direction things were headed it hadn’t even occurred to you he’d be okay with stopping here. When he registers the confusion in your expression he smooths his thumb over your cheek.

“I told you I would be your escape tonight. We can stop right now, if that’s what you want.”

You shake your head, scarcely believing that the night has come to this. _He’s really going to make me say it_.

“Please, Gladio.”

“Please, what?” His lips curl into a smirk, and you begin to wonder if this wasn’t part of his plan after all. “Tell me what you want.”

Heat floods through you, the embarrassment of this about-face warming your skin well beyond your release.

“I want you. I want you to fuck me until the only word I can speak is your name.”

“No.” He slips an arm beneath your neck, cradling you as he grazes the still-wet tip of his nose and lips across your cheek. “I will fuck you until you are incapable of even that. Until your voice gives out, until your thighs tremble and shake.”

His words reignite your arousal, sending a throb of desire through your already soaked sex. “Enough talk. _Fuck me._ ”

He bends down to steal a kiss, seemingly for himself, before he pushes himself up and away from you. He doesn’t take his eyes from you as he eases his pants down his hips, revealing an Apollo’s belt so deeply defined and chiseled it has your mouth watering. His muscles flex invitingly as he straightens back up to look at you, his pants in a heap at his feet. You want to admire his incredible thighs, but there’s something else drawing your attention.

“What do you think?” He grins as he pumps his fist along his erection slowly, an action less intended to pleasure himself than to showcase his almost obscene length and girth. His manhood is the stuff of legend; you’d heard quite a few things, but such stories should always be taken with a grain of salt. But there’s no arguing with this.

“It seems not all of the stories about you are exaggerated.” You can’t help but stare, the sure motion of his hand stealing your focus. Perhaps the most ludicrous thing is that even held in his massive palm his cock still looks absolutely gigantic. You wonder how it might look in your hand, how it might feel within you.

“Where do you want it, _amar_?” He grips himself with both hands, one at the base as the other traverses the veiny terrain of his throbbing arousal. “Your mouth? That tight little cunt? Your a-“

“Stop showing off and take me.” You don’t mean to snap, but his teasing is working you up more than you’d anticipated, and you’re beginning to lose your patience.

He laughs again, dropping to his knees before you, his arousal bobbing. “And yet I’m the pig.”

“I never called you a pig.” You pout, watching him as he crawls over you, arousal in hand. “I only said other people called you a pig.” He drags his cockhead through the slick gathered along your thighs, a pleasurable exhale leaving him as he coats himself with your essence.

“Semantics.”

He enters you then, his thick rod sliding into you smoothly, though he takes his time. His cock steals the very air from your lungs, forcing it from you in a shaky exhale as you arch up beneath him. He bends down to kiss you, murmuring words of encouragement.

“You take it so well, _habibti_.” His lips are so soft on your own, his beard leaving tingles against your skin. “Only a few more inches.” 

He speaks to you so intimately—little wonder he’d managed to leave so many broken hearts in his wake. He makes you feel as though you’ve known him for a lifetime, as if he’d ruined you nightly for years. When you reach up to touch his face, something in him seems to soften further.

“So beautiful,” he breathes, sounding so full of wonder that you really believe him. “Cruel of the King to put you in my path now. Tomorrow is…”

“Don’t.” You place a finger to his lips. “There’s only tonight.”

“Yes.” He smiles, bittersweet. “Only tonight.”

He begins to move inside of you, even as your sex continues to adjust to his length. When you moan it seems to draw him out of his sad reflection, pushing him back to that confident lover of legend.

“How do you like it, Y/N?” He bends down to whisper into your ear, his warm breath fanning across your neck. “Slow? Fast? Rough? Tender?”

“All of it.” You rake your nails down his muscled back, and he lets out a low growl.

“As you like.”

He withdraws from you suddenly, flipping you onto your stomach as he pulls your hips back and pushes your torso down against the cushions. He enters you from behind, calloused palms gripping your hips as he tugs you back against him. His cock hits you at the perfect angle, so perfect you can’t help the litany of lewd moans every thrust draws from you.

He fucks you savagely, rutting like an animal in heat. This was a far cry from the tender man who’d gazed down at you just a few moments ago—but every slam of his body against yours brings pleasure radiating from within your core. You’re not complaining.

“How’s this,” he growls, one hand traveling around to slip his fingers into your mouth; you can still taste yourself on his fingers. You can only moan in response, his digits on your tongue making you grow wetter still around his length.

“Do the stories cover this part?” His words are peppered with grunts, his breathing beginning to deepen with the effort. “Did they warn you I’d have you on your hands and knees like an animal?” He administers a sharp slap to your buttocks that rings out through the tent. 

“Yes,” you gasp, and he rewards you for your honesty with another spank. 

  
“It’ll never be me, you said.” He reaches around to work your clit with a calloused finger, his other hand holding you firmly in place as he rails you from behind. “Don’t act surprised. I could read it in your body language.”

He grunts as he angles himself upward to hit you in a new place. “You were too defensive. And yet here you are, moaning for me like all the rest.”

His words almost carry a sort of sting to them, but before you can register your upset he withdraws himself from you and turns you over again onto your back to face him. As he slides back into you he takes his time, one hand cupping your cheek and pulling your gaze up to look at him.

“There’s no shame in what we do here.” He brings his face close to yours, the tip of his nose bending against your jaw. “Life is too short, _habibti_. Enjoy it when you can.”

He begins to move within you once more, but this time his motions are slow and passionate, one hand slipping beneath your neck to cradle you in the crook of his arm. You wrap your arms around his broad back, your palms slipping against his skin as a thin sheen of sweat now coats that expanse of tattoos and muscle. It’s clear Gladiolus enjoys this languid, passionate fuck just as much as he enjoyed the brutal rutting you’d shared just a few moments ago. He presses his hips close to yours, the hard surface of his muscular body providing you with the friction you need to see you to your release. As you feel the pressure building within your core, Gladiolus bends down to whisper into your ear.

“Say my name when you come. Let me remember you like this when the sun rises and takes you from my bed.”

You squeeze yourself around his length, your toes curling with every torturous snap of his hips. You can feel the muscle of his back ripple and flex beneath your palms, his long hair curtaining his face as he looks down at you. There’s a softness in his gaze, a tenderness you’d expect from a longtime lover.

“I’ll call your name,” you gasp, looking up at him from beneath your lashes, “if you kiss me.”

He chuckles as though he thinks he’s getting the better deal here, leaning down to press a series of kisses to your lips that take your breath away. You’re teetering on the brink of rapture now, so close to your release. You wish you could stop time and exist in this moment forever, abandoning your mission to chase your own desires in Gladiolus’s arms. You try to hold out, to savor the experience just a moment longer, but it’s all too much, and you find yourself hurtling over the precipice into orgasm.

Gladiolus’s name leaves your lips over and over again, just as naturally as the air you breathe—when he feels you tightening around him he speeds up, allowing himself to chase his own release now that you’ve attained yours. His face contorts, a combination of effort and ecstasy before he collapses against you, burying himself to the hilt as he releases himself deep within you. You lie together still joined for a long time, neither of you speaking; there’s a shared understanding between you about the sanctity of this moment. When Gladiolus finally withdraws from you, he holds you close, whispering into your ear.

“Shall I return to my half of the tent?” He smooths a rough palm over your forehead, brushing away strands of sex-mussed hair. When you shake your head, he looks at you, something deeper than curiosity in his expression.

“When the dawn comes I’ll face my mission alone. Until then-”

He doesn’t even allow you to finish your sentence, his lips molding to yours in a searing embrace. “I told you tonight I will be your escape. I am at your service until you tell me to leave you.”

“I can’t tell you to go” you whisper, and he smiles, bittersweet.

“Then don’t.”

———-

By the time the dawn breaks, you’ve been up for an hour already—you’ve never been much good at sleeping before a mission anyhow, but you find yourself stealing any remaining time you have left in Gladiolus’s arms. He looks positively angelic in his sleep, those long thick lashes and handsome features belying the absolute sin he’s capable of when he wakes. His tattooed chest rises and falls with every peaceful breath. Part of you hopes he won’t wake as you slip from his grasp to dress and pack your things, but when you turn to take one last look at him he’s already wide awake, reclining on the cushions where you’d spent the night making love.

“Sneaking out without saying goodbye?” His lips are pulled into a teasing smirk, but the familiarity in his tone tugs at your heart. You’ve become so fond of him in such a short time.

“How else am I to keep myself on your mind,” you joke, though you’re unable to muster much of a smile. He pushes himself to stand, crossing the room to stand before you. You’re grateful he’d slipped his pants back on at some point in the dead of night—you’re not sure you’d be able to keep your eyes on his otherwise.

“You will always be on my mind.” He dips down to plant a lingering kiss to your cheek. “Regardless of what happens today.” He cups your cheek in his hand, brushing his thumb over your lip. “So make sure you come back in one piece. I’d like to do this again.”

“The stories never mentioned repeat encounters.” You bite your lip, grinning, and he laughs, drawing you into his arms. 

“Return safely to me, _amar_ , and we’ll write our own story.”


End file.
